Angel’s hand brought the rock down heavily, as he felt the light slipping away, his hope slipping away--Buffy slipping away, about to be crushed.

The rock stopped and Angel turned, throwing it to the ground. He looked up to meet Doyle’s eyes.

"Can’t quite give up invincibility?" the half-demon asked.

"Not yet. I’m going to Sunnydale. I’ll be back later. Or tomorrow." Before Dole could ask anymore questions or make any comments, Angel turned, his duster sweeping around him, and descended quickly through the apartment, knowing despite all his words, all the work he had yet to do, there was something more important first, if his soul would ever truly be free.

He eyed the door, then shook his head and lifted his hand to knock on the door. "Come in," Buffy’s voice called, making his non-beating heart clench in an imitation of life. He opened the door.

Buffy and Willow were sitting on their separate beds, giggling. At the sight of Angel, the giggling stopped.

At the sight of her, Angel’s world stopped.

She looked older. Her hair was loose down her back, a few golden strands brushing her face and she sat cross-legged, wearing khaki capris and a zip-up sweatshirt. Her nails were pale frosted blue, just beginning to chip at the ends. Her eyes were tired beneath the veneer of laughter, and there was something vulnerable about her that he didn’t remember. Willow moved, stood up, and Angel’s contemplation was interupted.

"Hi Angel!" she exclaimed. "I was just going to go...study...in the library...for a long time. Bye!" Willow grabbed some books from a nearby table and hurried past Angel, out the door, ignoring Buffy’s glare. The door closed behind him and Angel turned back to regard Buffy.

"Angel," she whispered. "Why are you--Did Oz give you the--"

"Ring?" he finished, pulling the box from his pocket and showing her the gem. She sagged a little in relief.

"I would have brought it myself, but I’ve been busy and Oz was going there anyway..." Buffy said, a touch of nervousness in her voice, as if she thought he was here to confront her, to blame her.

"It’s all right," he replied. There was a short silence.

"So...why are you here? I mean, it’s really good to see you, I just...is everything okay? Did Spike bother you at all?" Buffy asked.

"You could so that."

"What happened?" Angel shrugged slightly.

"He tried to get me to tell him where the ring was. I wouldn’t." Buffy frowned, hearing something off in his voice.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned. There was a split second of warmth in his being that she worried about him, and then he thought back to the day’s events, and felt cold again. As if he could feel anything like warm and cold.

"I’ll live. Or...un-live..." Buffy’s mouth twitched involuntarily ypward. Another awkward silence descended.

"So...how is everyone? Everyone being Cordelia I guess..." Angel moved restlessly, walking over to a bookshelf nearby and eyeing the books. Most were almost certainly Willow’s.

"Buffy, I came to return the ring." He could feel her puzzled stare on his back.

"But it won’t do me any good. I want you to have it. So you’ll be safe and...and have the sunlight." Angel wanted to run and sweep her up into his arms. He wanted to hold her forever, kiss her hair, her lips...

His hand stirred over the books and he turned slightly towards her, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Buffy, you did give me the sunlight. I walked on the beach, like a person. I watched a sunset. But I can’t keep it, for many reasons. I have work to do in this world, and if I lose sight of the night, of the darkness, I’ll never find peace. But more than that...I don’t want the sunlight without you. When I walked on the beach, I thought ‘Buffy would be laughing now, teasing me into the water.’ When I watched the sunset, felt those last rays of warmth slip from my face, I needed you beside me. And I know it’s too late for that. At least, I think it is. I was going to destroy the ring, but I knew I had to talk to you first."

She was quiet, and he wanted to turn, to see her face, to catch any glimpse of her thoughts, but he knew he would be lost, so he stood silently, looking away, and waited.

Buffy was frozen in hope and fear and everything else. She had known some of what she did, giving him the ring, but she hadn’t let herself hope that he would come back. And he hadn’t, exactly. He said he had work to do, he had...peace to find. So why was he standing in her dorm room, waiting for her to tell him...what? And did he know about Parker?

Oh God, did he know what she had done?

"Angel did you...did you talk to Spike?" she asked in a hoarse almost-whisper.

"It was more like him lying to me, me telling him something stupid and him thrusting hot irons through my stomach. So I suppose yes."

Of course, they both knew that this time, Spike hadn’t been lying.

"What did he say?" she asked, dreading the answer, but needing to hear it.

"Nothing. Nothing important," Angel answered, and he wouldn’t turn to look at her. He wouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was easy to read at the best of times and now...

"But it was important," Buffy heard herself say. "It was true." He startled involuntarily and she bit her bottom lip, staring down at her hands. "I slept with a guy named Parker Abrams." Angel started to say something but she shushed him. "Please just let me talk. Let me explain."

"You don’t need to--" he began.

"Angel," she interupted, her voice firm. "Let me talk."

He let her talk.

"I was lonely. I’ve been lonely for a long time--five months, in fact. And it’s been worse since college started. Everyone’s so busy, so wrapped up in...everything. And I missed you. I missed you so much. I just wanted to know that I could have a real relationship again, that someone else would love me, even though you went away. I needed to know that. I, of course, picked by far the worst person to try and show me--though I’m pretty sure no one could match up with the standards I was going for--but there it was. I believed all his lines because I wanted to. Because I wanted someone to really feel that way about me, and about life. I wanted someone I could love.

"But there’s no one really. No one but you."

Silence filled the room again, sweet, heavy, almost sharp.

"See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?" Buffy asked lightly. Another pause, and then she had to strain to hear his whisper.

"No. No it wasn’t."

"So why won’t you look at me Angel?" Buffy asked, realizing for the first time that she had been crying.

And he did--he did turn and look, and she realized that he was too. "I didn’t think vampires cried," she whispered, sliding off the bed and walking toward him.

"I didn’t think so either," he replied. She reached out and touched one of the salty tears on his cheeks. "Will you take the ring?" he asked in a rough voice. She blinked, surprised, having forgotten, and then she felt the weight of his need descend on her, and she closed her eyes, wanting to die. He couldn’t leave her again. He couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

She opened her eyes again and regarded him calmly.

"Yes. On one condition."

"What?"

"That you use it." She put a finger to his mouth to stop his protest. "Not every day. I understand that you have work in L.A. I have school and slaying here. But you must have days off. You must have some time you can come here. I don’t care how much--a week, a weekend, an hour, a minute. But you have to come, and be with him, in the sunlight. And then you can go away, and do whatever you need to do. But you have to come. That’s my condition."

Their eyes met, dark and light, hope and despair, and she could see the yearning in his, the need and also the pain of the wall he had built around himself.

And then she saw the hope.

"I accept," he whispered, and Buffy smiled despite herself, despite everything, an exuberant, bright smile because he was back, and he would be back again, and again, and someday forever.

"I love you," he told her, and bent his head to kiss her again, after so long. And Buffy cried, and slipped the ring onto his finger, and whispered that she loved him too, until her voice was hoarse and she couldn’t speak anymore, but she kept whispering it anyone, in her soul, and knew that he could hear it.

And in the morning, when the sun rose, a small bright slayer and her dark vampire stood with their toes buried in sand, souls and hearts and hands linked, and felt themselves covered by the pure gold of the sunlight, for the first time in all of history, but certainly not the last.

The End

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